


Sometimes

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, During Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-30
Updated: 2006-09-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8695486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: "Once, he asked Dean what this was, what they were doing. It took him three hours and half a bottle of whisky to work up the courage and he still couldn't look at Dean."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Title: Sometimes  
Author: Kali  
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean  
Rating: R-ish  
Category: Angst, I guess  
Word Count: 555  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _Once, he asked Dean what this was, what they were doing. It took him three hours and half a bottle of whisky to work up the courage and he still couldn’t look at Dean._  
Notes/Warnings: This is a weird ficlet that came out of nowhere. It is Not Happy, though I don't really class it as angst. Warning for non-graphic mentions of sex and overuse of a couple of words/phrases.  
  
  
Sometimes, Dean will look at him, a dark, serious look filled with knowledge and twisted plans. Sam doesn’t like those looks, because he knows what will happen when night falls. He knows that Dean will be quiet, dangerous, harsh almost. Sam almost fears Dean when he’s like that, when he mutters under his breath, accusations and insults and he’s not sure if they’re directed at him or someone else. Those are the times when he wakes up with scratches, bites and bruises covering his skin and a sick feeling in his stomach that’s worse than normal.  
  
And sometimes he gets confused because it seems to be more about his pleasure than Dean’s. Those are the time when Dean will sink to his knees and wrap his lips around Sam’s cock and do the most delicious things that have him crying and shuddering and forgetting his own names. In the harsh light of day, those are the times that Sam hates the most. Hates that Dean can make him feel that way, that only Dean can make him feel that way. He thinks Dean knows this, because those times are rare and, when they do happen, Dean leaves him alone for a couple of days afterward.   
  
But he doesn’t stay away, he always comes back. He slips into Sam’s bed and runs his hand over Sam’s side and Sam can feel him, hard and hot, pressing against the small of his back. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, until Dean is licking and nibbling at whatever skin he can find.  
  
_I need this_  
  
He doesn’t say please, doesn’t ask if it’s okay, and Sam never gives him an answer. Sometimes he makes Dean work for it, is as unwilling as possible without actually protesting. Sometimes he makes it easy, gets it over with quickly.   
  
Sometimes Dean’s gentle with him, slow and loving, and he always calls him Sammy. He always stays afterwards, spooning him from behind and his hands splayed on his stomach. In the morning, when he wakes up and thinks Sam is still asleep, he kisses his cheek and whispers thank you. Sam likes those times the most. He can almost pretend that this is right, this is okay. It’s a fragile illusion, but he clings to it with all his might.   
  
When they’ve just finished a hard hunt, and they stumble back into their motel room covered in dirt and blood and god knows what else, Dean slams him up against the wall and is pulling at his clothes even before he kisses him, quick and brutal. Neither of them last long, too wired from the hunt, giddy on the tension that crackles between them, and they never make it to penetration, just quick handjobs and the illicit slide of skin on skin. Sam doesn’t think about those times, doesn’t look at the fact that he was just as eager, just as hot for it, as Dean.  
  
Once, he asked Dean what this was, what they were doing. It took him three hours and half a bottle of whisky to work up the courage and he still couldn’t look at Dean. He waited, drawn tight as a bow string, for Dean’s answer. He never got one, Dean just kissed him once, quick and light, and went to take a shower. He never asked again.  
 


End file.
